


Canopy of Stars

by allyoops



Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Not Specified, Camping, Deepthroating, F/M, Father/Daughter Incest, First Time Blow Jobs, Grooming, Loss of Virginity, Maledom/Femsub, Reference to incestuous pregnancy, Spanking, Teen victim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:15:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28419729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyoops/pseuds/allyoops
Summary: Keely's father takes her camping in the mountains for their first special weekend together.Keely isn't entirely certain she wants to do this—she's actually pretty sure she does not—but she knows what Daddy likes, and she tries very hard to be good.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 120
Collections: Bulletproof 20/21





	Canopy of Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Harpalyke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harpalyke/gifts).



> Written as a giftfic for the tag "Princess is eager to please Daddy even if she's not completely comfortable" with a side order of "Daddy Dom manipulates/grooms their little girl."

“Not much longer now.” Daddy adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “How you doing over there?”

Keely stirred, roused from her pleasant drowse by the necessity of prompt response.

“Um.” She considered. “Okay.”

Her father nodded.

“Rest stop just ahead. Last one before we get into the park. Cell reception’s going to be spotty after that, too; think we’ll fill up, and call your mother. Don’t want her to worry.”

“Okay.” Keely tucked her feet up onto the seat. Dad’s glance flashed sideways in warning and she flushed, quickly putting them back down to the mat. “Sorry.”

He made no comment, and they reached the gas station in silence. As Daddy adjusted the gas cap Keely at once started for the door, but was drawn up at her father’s instruction.

“Just stretch while I fill up. We’ll go in together.”

“I need to go in _now_ ,” she said plaintively, then immediately regretted it when she saw the look on his face. “Sorry,” she whispered, but she was pretty sure this apology came too close on the heels of the other, and too late to be of any use. This one just made his jawline firm, and though she could not see his hands, she imagined the way his knuckle ridges would stand out briefly white.

She hadn’t meant to whine; he hated it when she whined. But she desperately needed to stretch more than her legs. She needed a little space, a room with a door, somewhere to give her head a shake and try to psych herself up for their weekend together.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she repeated, but did not say it again after that, because that would be just like whining, and then there’d really be no hope.

She didn’t mean to be difficult. Keely was almost never difficult; all the adults in her life said so. It was just so _much_ , this weekend. It was all too different. Too new.

It should have been familiar. It was camping, and camping was about as ordinary as it got for family outings, or at least it used to be. They used to go camping all the time as a family, before Brianne was born. Admittedly, they’d gotten out of the habit when Fiona left for college. It wasn’t the same, Dad said, when they couldn’t all go away together. He didn’t enjoy it as much when Fiona wasn’t with them, so they’d found other things to do. Things Keely and Brianne would supposedly both enjoy, though in truth there wasn’t much a girl in her late teens and a four year old could both enjoy when their father disliked theme parks, so it had all been pretty tame stuff. Biking, mostly, and walks in state parks closer to home, but nothing like the camping they used to do.

Until last month, on Keely’s birthday. She’d found the old tent sitting by her place at dinner, a bow on top. Mom and Daddy had both beamed at her, like it was a ticket to Disney.

“Your father has something special planned, sweetheart,” Mom had said gently. “Something for just the two of you. You understand?”

Keely had understood. Daddy was taking her camping. Just like before, when Fiona was her age, and they had gone into the mountains for the last time.

Now they were going back for their special trip, just her and Daddy. Honestly, with their supplies in the trunk and the state park wrapped around the mountains rising all around them, it should have felt like old times. Except everything was different. Fiona was finishing her last year in college, Mom and Brianne were back home, and it wasn’t like old times at all. It was different and wrong, and Keely wasn’t ready. So she needed a place all to herself, and a minute to clear her head.

She needed to escape for all those reasons, but she couldn’t tell Dad, because it would be whining. So she just snugged her thighs together and looked at him plaintively.

“Please, Daddy,” she whispered.

He sighed, and fished in his pocket.

“Here.” He held out his phone. “Call your mother. Tell her we’ve made good time, we’re almost to the park, and not to expect to hear from us again tonight. By the time you’re done, I should be, too.”

Keely accepted the phone and obediently connected with the house line. Mom answered on the second ring, prompt and correspondingly out of breath.

“Yes, David?”

“No, Mom, it’s me.” Keely leaned back against the car, watching as the vehicle beside them, a loaded down minivan full of screaming kids and parents who looked like they were regretting this already, pulled away from the pumps and back onto the road. “Dad said to tell you we’re almost to the park. We made good time, and, uh, you shouldn’t expect to hear from us again tonight.”

“Yes, of course, reception there is always a little uncertain.” Mom was so perfectly understanding, perfectly accepting, perfectly Mom as Dad liked her to be, even when she couldn’t be certain Dad wasn’t there to overhear. A pause. Then, “How are you feeling?”

Keely squirmed.

“Um. Okay, I guess?”

Mom sighed. “Darling, I hope you won’t make difficulties over this. That would be absolutely the worst thing you could do.”

“I’m not. Honest I’m not, Mom. I just . . . I mean, I don’t know. It’s . . . I don’t know.”

“You know that your father has been looking forward to this weekend for a long time, sweetheart. He has been waiting so patiently. You owe him your gratitude for that, don’t you think? He wants it to be special for both of you. I need to know you’re going to make an effort to meet him halfway, all right? No pouting or complaining, Keely; it will only upset him to see you so ungrateful.”

“Yeah, Mom. I know.”

“Try to find something to enjoy about it, all right? You used to love the mountains when you were little, I’m sure that’s why he came up with this plan. It might be fun to be back there together, now that . . . that you’re almost grown up.”

Keely nodded, even though Mom couldn’t see. She nodded as much for herself as anybody else.

“Maybe, yeah.”

“There’s my girl.” Mom’s smile was audible even across the hundreds of miles of interstate highway that lay between them. “Now if you could put your father on the phone, sweetheart, I’d appreciate it.”

Keely set the phone to speaker at Daddy’s instruction, and as she held it up for him she risked one more plaintive expression; one hopeful finger pointed to the station and an illustrative squirm. But he didn’t even bother to shake his head. He ignored her completely as he exchanged a few brief sentences with Mom, accepting her gratitude for his thoughtfulness in calling, listening to her description of Brianne’s afternoon antics and her own productive activities. Then he verified that she had a suitable schedule in place for their absence and signalled for Keely to hang up. By the time she passed the phone back over the tank was full, and she was at last able to fall in step behind her father and follow him into the filling station.

Once he had his place in line he nodded his dismissal, and she fled to the little room with the familiar silhouette eked out on the door, shutting it behind her, locking it, and leaning against the sink until her stomach settled and her head felt like it was less apt to float right off her shoulders.

She risked a glance in the mirror, and was surprised at how normal she looked. Was this how Dad saw her? All calm and collected like this? She looked like a young lady, almost: completely in control of herself.

Ready.

Her cheeks were a little paler than usual, and her hair was tousled from nodding off on the trip, but it took only a moment to finger comb it down into order again, and then it looked as subdued and compliant as she did.

Keely thought, for far from the first time, how everything about her was little more than a watered-down version of Fiona. From Fiona’s flaming temper, managed effectively only by Daddy’s strict hand, to her riotous sunset of hair and her eyes deep and green as polished emeralds, everything about Fiona was decisive, fiery and _real._ Keely looked like somebody had added water to the bits left over from making Fiona just so they’d have enough to make her. She definitely did not see Fiona when she looked in the mirror, but she couldn’t tell if that was a good thing, or a bad one, or even really how she felt about it at all.

Maybe if she were Fiona, she would at least have some idea of what best to do; Fiona had done all this before.

Keely took another few slow, steadying breaths and knew she’d exhausted her time. She scrubbed her hands reflexively then fumbled with the door handle, almost frantic as she anticipated his knock, that threatening proof that she’d overtaxed his patience. But it never came, and she was _so close_ to in time, so nearly able to rejoin him at the till before he even had a chance to miss her, but when she opened the door there was a whole family waiting, so she moved to the far end of the hallway to let them pass and it cost her the precious few moments she had needed to reach him before he came looking.

By the time the family emptied out of the narrow corridor, Daddy was blocking the exit, and his expression of patience at its limit tied knots of tension all around her tummy.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, starting toward him at a half-run. “They were—”

“We’re leaving,” he said. and suited action to the word. Keely fell silently into step behind him.

It was strange, but somehow, knowing she’d pushed him to the limits of his temper made it almost easier to settle in for the rest of the drive. Yes he was furious, but there was no more walking on eggshells, trying to keep on his good side. She had made him angry, she would be punished for it, and until then she could just . . . relax.

The sun had gone behind the hill, though it was hours still before it would be dark. The vehicle climbed the curving road through the grey-blue light of a long and lingering dusk. Daddy looked easy; comfortable, Keely thought, stealing a sideways glance at him now and then. You wouldn’t know she had got on his bad side just to look at him. He sat with one arm extended, grip solid on the top of the wheel, his posture correct, as always, but not rigid. There was no warning tension along the solid edge of his jawline, and the third time he peeked, when he caught her glance, he even smiled.

“Counting my gray hairs?” he asked lightly. Like he wasn’t angry with her. Like he wasn’t going to make her feel it, when they got to the campsite. Daddy could be that way, though; once the choice was made, and they both knew what she was in for, he could calm down too. Keely did not hesitate to deliver the expected polite contradiction and compliment.

“Oh come on, Daddy, you hardly have any. And even if you did, I think they’d make you look very distinguished.”

“Mmm.” He put his hand out and gave her knee an approving squeeze, just hard enough to make her glad it didn’t hurt. “Glad to hear it. I like it when my girl remembers who she’s supposed to make nice to.”

It was a warning of what was to come, but it was also another familiar cue. Keely leaned across the centre console to rest her head fondly on his shoulder.

“Of course, Daddy.” She reached down shyly, slowly, to hold the hand that did not hold the wheel. She maintained that posture all the way up the mountain, into the park and through the back roads that led to the campsite. She did not move from her place of carefully-posed rest until they came to a stop, Daddy kissed the top of her head, and said,

“We’re here.”

Only then did she sit up from his shoulder, a little stiffly, and smile into his face. He smiled in response, a mechanical flick of the lips that warmed a little when she did not break eye contact in any way.

“There’s my good girl,” he said, and kissed her forehead, soft and slow. “How are we going to help you remember to stay so good for me all the time, hmm?”

She did not answer, because it wasn’t expected, but she willed herself to hold still and hold the smile as he drew back, searching her face, before he gently pressed a third kiss to her lips.

She did not kiss him back, because he made no sign he wanted her to, but she held still for the duration and let him be the one to pull away. When he did, her heart was pounding and her cheeks felt hot and scratchy. He smiled at her now in a way that made her tummy feel hot, too. When Daddy smiled at you like that, with approval, it was hard not to feel like you’d done really _well_. Even now, knowing she was in for it, Keely loved thinking she’d still done something well enough to make him that happy.

“ _There’s_ my good girl,” he said again. His voice was deeper, somehow; warm and rumbly. Keely blinked, and looked down. Waited, painfully conscious of her father’s very movement, of the way he drew and let his breath, and finally reached for the buckle of his seat belt and released it with a snap.

“Let’s get set up.”

* * *

It had been almost five years since their last trip, but Keely’s muscles remembered the tent. She moved in sync with her father, draping the ground cover neat and square, just the way he’d drilled into them as kids. He did not once have to correct her approach opposite him as they unrolled the tent and lined it up with the cover, and it took only a warning glance to slow her down when she got a little too enthusiastic inserting the tent poles. She let him set the pace after that, mirroring his gestures exactly, and felt a rush of genuine pleasure when he set his hand on her shoulder at the conclusion, and said, with simple sincerity, “Nicely done.”

“I had a good teacher.” She was was delighted to note that this modesty appeared to please him as much as, if not more than, her cooperative assembly of the tent.

“It’s always been my most important job.” His hand stroked her back, light and meaningful. “It’s important that I know I’ve raised good girls.”

Keely nodded, her heartbeat picking up. Daddy continued to stroke her back.

“I need to know I can trust my girls to do as they’re told, when they’re told to do it.”

Keely’s heart raced faster. Her throat felt close and tight.

Daddy sighed. “Today you forgot what you’d been taught.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’d like to believe you, honey.” His hand continued the thoughtful pattern of stripes down her back, light and intentional. “But you know I need to make sure.”

She knew.

“Get the camp stool out of the car and set it up by the fire.”

She took the time to make sure it was level and steady, but she didn’t take any more time than that. Then she stood back, waiting, while Daddy took his seat, and didn’t move until he beckoned her into place.

She unbuttoned her pants as she walked forward, lowering them before she bent over his lap. The bones and musculature of his thighs formed a hard, unyielding platform against the softness of her tummy, but she gave her full weight up to him as expected, bearing the pressure quietly.

He didn’t technically have to steady her anymore. Her feet touched the ground, and she was long enough to reach forward and brace herself on the ground with her hands, but he preferred her to have her hands behind her back. She put them there at once, crossed at the wrists, and he secured them at once with his own grip. She shut her eyes against the breeze as he smoothed his free palm over her bottom, bared to the dusky sky.

Keely was the only girl her age she knew of who still got spanked. Not just any spankings, either, but bare bottom ones, from her own dad. She’d been spanked on camping trips before, but she’d been little then, and she hadn’t understood as much. Now she was almost a woman, and things were different.

The spanking was the same, though. Those never changed.

“Count them,” he said, so Keely did, her voice tiny and a bit breathless because of his knees digging into her tummy, but still loud enough for him to hear.

“One,” she said, following the first crack.

“Two,” on the second, and her voice didn’t even waver, nor again on three. Not til “four” did the word bend around the middle, because her whole weight was balanced on her tummy and her bottom was heating up and there were still so many left to go.

Daddy’s hand was hard and unforgiving. She was glad he allowed her to cry if she wanted. She could hold her tears in the first five, always, but between six and seven a squeak would inevitably slip out, and by ten she was giving a heartfelt sob at almost every blow.

It wasn’t the pain that bothered her as much as the disappointment. His, and hers in knowing she had given it to him. She wanted to do better than that, even if she couldn’t always remember to. Making Daddy mad enough to give her a spanking was the _worst_ , but also somehow it felt like she could never stop doing it. Whatever she did, however hard she tried, it felt like he would push her beyond where she could remember to be good and inevitably she wound up bent over his knee once more.

“F-fo-ourt-tee-ee-n,” she wailed, the tears flowing freely by now. She stumbled so many times over that number that it must have made her sound extra tragic, because he stopped a moment to rub her backside and give it a breather.

“You brought this on yourself, Kiki.” Tough his voice was still hard, it was not as cold as she might have expected. So he wasn’t going to punish her like _that_ , at least; not being distant and unfeeling, so that she wanted to break her own heart for the loss of his approval. This punishment would be only with his hand, to remind her that disobedience hurt.

Keely’s heart warmed to him, and she nodded quickly, fierce in the sincerity of her comprehension and her gratitude.

“Yes, Daddy,” she panted, her breath still choked off around the middle. “I did.”

“You understand that you need this? And why?”

 _To correct and improve_. Always the same reason. Daddy wanted them to be better, and they failed him, but he kept helping them try.

“Yes, Sir, I do.”

“I’m glad. We’ll continue when you say so.”

“Please,” she said quickly, “yes, please. You can give me the rest now.”

His hand and voice were both menacingly gentle. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, Daddy. Please. I want to be good for you.”

“Very well.” He brought his hand down again with a crack.

Keely sobbed through _fifteen_ , and managed to choke out _sixteen_ as well, but he had to give her seventeen twice before she could say it properly, and by the time they wrapped up _twenty_ it was really more like twenty five, or maybe more, because she kept saying the word too soft or weepily for him to hear so that he kept having to repeat the blow to correct her recitation of it. The punishment at last complete, she lay limp and sobbing across his lap, letting him pet her, stroke her hair and rub her burning bottom.

“My poor sweet girl,” he murmured, his touch so sweet and light on her face, wiping the tears. “I hope you won’t make me do that again any time soon, Keely. You know I don’t like it when my girls make me so angry.”

She nodded, turning her head into the caress, weeping freely. She rose from her position only at his instruction, tears still streaming, because you got two minutes’ grace for a good cry after a spanking if you really wanted one before he’d count it as whining again, and give you another. She fumbled her own panties and jeans up over her roasting bottom, and once everything was back into place she dropped between his knees and thanked him effusively for his discipline.

He stroked her hair almost kindly, but said nothing further about her punishment or the conduct that had earned it; simply gave her a moment to collect herself, then jerked his head in the direction of the car.

They still had a camp to set up.

* * *

The camp-making routine flowed through Keely as though the last time they’d done it had been only yesterday. Firewood was removed out from the vehicle, set up neatly by the pit, and all their food was checked and secured. Keely stepped a little gingerly because of the chafing against the tender skin of her backside, but she was careful to make sure it didn’t actually slow her down, and by the time everything was set up Dad seemed genuinely pleased. He gave a slow, thoughtful stretch as he considered the campsite and the woods beyond.

“Light enough left for a short trek,” he decided. “You up for it?”

“Of course, Daddy.”

Complaining or requesting an alternate option would have been out of the question anyway, but tonight she was actually glad of the chance to walk. Her bottom was still tender, but she longed to stretch her legs, breathe in the smell of the forest around them, and forget, for just a little while longer, the full truth of why they had come here.

Dad set the pace, as usual, but he didn’t ask too much of her in return. Just a good, steady walk, enough that she couldn’t quite catch her breath enough to give more than one or two word answers to his occasional questions. She might easily have been little again, determined not to fall behind so much as to earn a word of reproof, focused on the heels of Fiona’s hiking boots ahead of her, Fi’s longer legs eating up the terrain with enviable ease. Fiona had made everything about their camping trips look easier than Keely felt she ever could. She wished, too late, she’d thought to ask Fiona how to cope with the rest of it, but now she was out here with Dad on her own, and she was going to have to figure it out for herself.

Surely, Keely thought, Daddy would help her?

“Far enough, now,” he decided. He glanced down at her, pleased. “You kept up well.”

She beamed, flushed with exertion and genuine pleasure. Dad was not one to spill praise without warrant, and she fairly basked in the comparative abundance he’d showered her with this evening.

“You can take a minute,” he decided, and directed her to a nearby log. Keely could not refuse such a gift, so she settled gingerly onto the rough surface, trying not to look too tender about it.

They took their minute together, Daddy on the side of the path, still standing, just barely on the safest side of impatient, letting her catch her breath. She didn’t dare do anything that looked like she was really settling in, or like she was unable to, but she tipped her head back and scanned the tree canopy, matching her breath to the toss and tumble of the branches in the breeze until her heartbeat slowed and she felt light and calm and sure.

Then she lowered her chin, and saw the way he was looking at her. Steady, intent, and . . . kind of hard. She swallowed. Suddenly the lightness was all her in her head, and the steady calm had deserted her..

“Daddy . . .” she said, and it was almost a plea, but not enough of one that he could get fully mad at her for it. Just stern.

“Come here.”

Her body lifted off the tree like he’d strung a hook through her just by saying the words. She didn’t even register crossing the path. _Yes_ was second nature, when Daddy spoke to you like that.

She came to a halt in front of him, her heart fluttering like she hadn’t sat down at all, and forced herself to stand still and calm when he fit his finger under her chin. Tipped her face up. Kissed her lips.

This time, he held her the way he did when he meant for her to kiss him back.

She _tried_. She really did. She wasn’t sure she got it right, but his hand was gentle on her shoulder, then he ran it light and skittery down her back, so maybe she did okay. The other hand, the one under her chin, held her there until it slipped down, along her neck, over her collarbones to—

She gasped between his parted lips, tears starting into her eyes as he squeezed her breast. She didn’t want to react until she knew how he’d like her to, but she couldn’t help that one gasp. Thankfully he smiled against her mouth and simply squeezed again. She whimpered.

“Try not to think of refusing me,” he recommended. “It will be better for you if you don’t.”

She flushed hot and prickly with the shame of knowing he had heard her hesitation in her voice. She managed to nod, tears flooding her eyes, and did not step back until he indicated she could.

“I won’t,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I just—” She checked herself hastily. He hated excuses. And anyway, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but making sure Daddy was happy this weekend. So she amended, “I was just being foolish again. I shouldn’t have. It’s so disrespectful, and I want to be good for you. I’m sorry.”

He looked back in the direction of their campsite.

“Good enough,” he said, and whether he meant her apology or the rest time, or both, she couldn’t tell. “Let’s go.”

After that, the rest of the evening through supper was almost normal. Everything was in its order and place, even without Mom and Fiona there to help her arrange it. Fire on, food out, the first night’s meal already wrapped neatly in foil packets and ready to rest on the makeshift cooking surface Dad set up over the flames. Potatoes and stew meat and grilled veggies, all roasted to piping hot perfection, and tasting even better than Mom’s usual fare with the edge to their hunger that came of being so long in the fresh air.

Near-night fell around them as they ate. Keely drew out the process as long as she could, eating slowly, chewing carefully and making sure to answer any and all of Daddy’s conversational sallies as thoroughly, slowly and thoughtfully as she could. But eventually, inevitably, the food was gone and the fire was dying down, and there was no putting it off any longer.

Daddy beckoned her over, indicating the ground at his feet, so she tucked her legs beneath her and settled between his knees, facing the fire. His hand trailed gently through her hair at the back of her head, sending a rush of little shivers down her neck.

“Tickles,” she admitted, when he paused in response. “But it’s okay.”

“Mmm.” His hand resumed the gentle stroking. “Going to do a lot more than tickle you tonight, my girl.”

Her stomach curled, but she kept her voice quiet and steady, so he wouldn’t mistake her reluctance for refusal.

“Yes, Daddy.”

His hand stroked lower. Down the side of her neck, over her shoulder. Light and slow. Considering.

“I think we’ll begin out here.”

She looked up, startled. His answering amusement was lit in sharp relief, the contrast of firelight and deep shadow playing over his expression. Not angry, she noted, but somehow menacing all the same.

One hand stroked gently down the side of her face, and the other settled on his belt. Her eyes dropped as if pulled by a magnet, and she watched him unbuckle; unzip. She swallowed hard, and had only just time to register the hand on her cheek had slipped around to catch her behind the neck when he reached into the front of his jeans and . . .

She shut her eyes, breathing quick and sharp through her nose.

“Steady,” he said warmly; almost gently. “Nothing new here. You’ve seen my cock before.”

He’d let her look—made her look—the night before her birthday. He’d had her hold it and touch it a few times since. _Your mother says I should help you get used to the idea_ , he’d explained, and she had thanked him for his thoughtfulness, as she’d known she should. But she still wasn’t used to the idea, and she was so, _so_ scared that he would see the truth of that.

“Nothing you can’t handle, Keely,” he said quietly. “We’ll make sure of it. Now lean in, and we’ll start with a kiss.”

She tipped her chin up, eyes still shut. She only opened them at the sound of his gentle laughter.

“Not a kiss on my _mouth_.”

Oh.

She looked down at it, at Daddy’s cock, hoping she was backlit enough by the fire that he couldn’t see her blush.

“Um . . .”

His hand on the back of his neck firmed, ready to enforce the order. She was grateful for it, honestly; the removal of the chance to refuse. She let him guide her forward, careful not to actually resist or give him any cause to say she was trying to say no. When she was near enough, when it was right in front of her, thick and heavy and hard, kind of _angry_ looking, she let her eyes fall shut again and pressed a soft kiss to the tip.

It was warm under her lips. Soft on the outside, but hard within. Her head got kind of swimming and doubtful at the prospect of . . . well, everything. But his hand was still on her, and it helped, a little. Reminded her he was waiting for her to do this. That she _had_ to do this. So she kissed it again, more boldly, then looked up in search of his approval.

 _That_ , at least, she knew she could always do.

“Good girl,” he said softly. “Open your mouth.”

Keely supposed it would only get more difficult from here. She obediently parted her lips to take him in, and Daddy sighed, so she knew that so far she was doing well.

This particular experience was . . . okay, somehow? Not pleasant, but not terrible. She was on the ground with Daddy’s cock in her mouth, so it was definitely not great, but he’d had her in worse positions. At least it wasn’t another spanking. She knew if she got this wrong she’d still have to do all the regular parts, and get a second spanking besides, so she resolved to do her best to make him happy with all the regular parts, just like he wanted.

He was letting her take her time with his cock, too, which was thoughtful of him. It was filling her mouth, she couldn’t figure out how to get her own tongue out of the way, and she thought he might even be laughing at little at the sad gargly noises she was making as she tried to bear down in obedience to the insistent pressure at the back of her neck. But he didn’t _force_ her down on it right away; just let her know with a little push what to do to best please him, and then gave her a moment or two to sort it out for herself.

She didn’t kid herself that she was mastering this skill, or anything close, but as she worked her jaw wide and finally flattened her tongue enough to let his thickness split her jaw to the aching point, she did hear him start to breathe a little sharper, so she knew she was getting the hang of it enough to suit him.

He bore her down, then let her up. Down, then up. Then the pressure slacked, but she kept up the rhythm, because it was clear he liked her doing that. Let his flesh fill her throat, then up to gulp for air. Back down onto the punishing, greedy length of him, then up for another quick breath. She had her hand around the base of it, now, so he wasn’t obliged to. Held him nice and ready, at just the right angle, and only gagged a little bit when his hand returned with punishing purpose and shoved her down farther than she’d gone before.

“Hold it there,” he said tightly, so she did, eyes watering, throat spasming frantically around the broad, blunt head. He gave a low, rumbling grunt and his grip on the back of her neck locked up tight and hard and it _hurt_. Then the cock in her mouth twitched and surged and something hot and thick flooded the back of her throat, so she had a lot more to worry about than just the pain. Now she struggled against the need to breathe, knowing that if she tried to inhale it would be worse than impossible, and forced herself to kneel mute and unresisting, her face buried in Daddy’s crotch, his cock buried in her throat, until he had emptied himself into her and dropped back with a sigh.

She came off his cock with a wet gasp, stomach surging in near rebellion, but by some feat of willpower she managed to keep everything down. When she got her breath back and looked up, panting, cheeks tear streaked, she found Daddy was watching her with gentle amusement.

“You could have done worse,” he said, and put out his hand. “Come here, Kiki.”

She curled up between his legs with a little hiccup. It wasn’t quite a sob, but she worried it might be close enough to count as ingratitude. To compensate, she nuzzled her face against his inner thigh. At the soft, searching contact from her face he sucked his breath in sharply.

“Christ, you little minx. You’re going to have me ready to go again before we’re even in the tent.”

She swallowed, painfully conscious of her throat as she did.

“Sorry, Daddy.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” He stroked her hair again, very gently. “It’s a very feminine ability, to give a man pleasure. To make him desire her. Your instinct is to please, and there’s nothing wrong with that, as long as the man you want to please is the man you belong to.” He dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “And you belong to me.”

She sank into those words like they were bed and bath and warm blanket all at once. He let her have that moment’s rest before resolve overtook him once more.

“Now. How about you go make up the bedroll, and then call me in when it’s ready? I’ll deal with the fire tonight.”

He made it a suggestion, like he so often did. Like there was even a chance of her suggesting another option in return. Like there was some possibility of saying she didn’t feel like it, not tonight, not yet, please, couldn’t they put it off . . .

He _said_ it like that. But Keely knew better.

She smiled bravely up at him, and nodded. “Sure, Daddy.”

Then she rose on rubbery legs and stumbled across the campsite, into the tent.

* * *

Keely took maybe just a few minutes longer at it all than she really needed to. Lingered over arranging their things in the corner of the tent, and dawdled pointlessly over straightening the bedroll to the very middle of the tent. Then, when she was pretty sure she had nothing left to delay with, she cleared her still aching throat and called out that she was ready.

She stood facing the bedroll, heart thudding, counting his quiet steps across the campsite. She had to keep standing while he joined her, kissed her temple, and told her that her own mother couldn’t have done a neater, better job of it.

“Now,” he said. “Take off your clothes, and get in.”

She obeyed immediately, baring her body without any particular finesse or technique, but a nervous speed that seemed to please him. Then she crawled into the bedroll, and wrapped her arms around her knees while he changed out of his own clothes before sliding into the spot beside her, putting his hand up to her chin, and drawing her in for a kiss.

“There we are,” he said softly, when he drew back. “My little girl remembers how to be sweet to me. I’m sure that once I’ve made her my little woman, she’ll be all the sweeter.”

“Of course, Daddy,” she whispered. She hoped he’d put the crack in her voice down to what his cock had down to her throat earlier, and not her own fear.

“There’s not much to it,” he assured her, stroking under her chin. Light. Steady. “No difficulty breathing, or anything to swallow. For this, you only need to lie back and let me do as I like. Can you handle that, princess?”

She thrilled at the pet name. He only ever used it when he was especially pleased. Almost eagerly, desperate to hear it again, she flattened herself on her back in the bedroll and watched him loom above her, broad and shadowy, so that he filled her line of sight. Above him, making him into a silhouette, was the airy moonwashed canvas of the tent, and above that . . . trees. Stars. The sky vast and fathomless, all of infinity stretching overhead, almost within reach.

Daddy’s body was warm and hard. He rose up over her, so much bigger and stronger than her. His hand pressed between the timid softness of her thighs, and he stroked her almost gently. Even so, she trembled.

“Nothing to it,” he soothed, still stroking. “You’ll see. You’re going to do fine, Kiki. Already an improvement on Fiona’s first time; she kept her underpants on.” He chuckled at the memory. “I had to spank her for it.”

Keely found her smile, even through her nervousness, even in the dark.

“She told me.”

“Mmm. Did she tell you why?”

“I think maybe she kept them on because . . . she was a little scared?”

“Yes. I got her past that soon enough. But did she tell you why I spanked her?”

“No-o.”

“It was a barrier. Something she put up between me and my rights.” His fingers were pressing gently against the softest part of her. “This, Keely. Your cunt. Access to your sweet little cunt is my right. Fiona tried to keep me from hers, so I punished her for that. But you’re not making the same mistake that she did, are you, honey?”

He parted the flesh that she knew was his to claim. Keely’s breath came sharp and quick through her nose, and she trembled, but she tried to hold still and let him touch as he pleased.

“Every part of you is mine, you understand that? There should be nothing blocking my use of you. Not your clothing _or_ your attitude. Cheerful, prompt obedience: that’s the only way.”

Keely nodded. Daddy continued to stroke, to press, to part her flesh. It felt so strange.

“If you’re good to me, and let me use you as you should, there’s nothing to be afraid of.” His fingers were no longer stroking. He was pressing _in_. Keely started up before she could stop herself. She yelped. She didn’t resist or fight or try to close her legs, but he was _in_ her! One finger, a fingertip, was actually inside.

“Daddy,” she clutched a little plaintively at his arm. “Wait. It—please. You can have it, I promise but wait. I—”

He sighed. He did not take his finger out, but looked down at her with the kind of terrible impatience he usually reserved for her most emotional moments, when he sometimes skipped the spanking and just slapped her foolish mouth.

“There’s nothing to be gained by delaying this, and you’ll only try my patience if you drag it out. Look.” He worked his finger into her a little more, almost gently. “See? Honey, it will be fine. Your cunt is made to take this. This is exactly what you’re meant to be used for.”

Keely pinched her lips together and squirmed around Daddy’s invading finger. Of course he was right. Of course it was silly to try to put it off. She knew she was being a brat, she knew she was risking a spanking, but the whole idea of knowing what she had to do, what he was going to do, was doing _now_ . . .

She tried to breathe through her nose and focus on the ordinary sounds. Not her father’s deep breathing as he worked his finger in and out, so that it got a little easier, pressed a little deeper, with each thrust. Not the soft wet sounds that came from between her legs as he opened her up, or even the panicked rasp of her own breath.

She listened beyond the tent to the trees rustling, like they had when she was little: the creak and bend and sway of the branches overhead.

Somewhere sounded the distant call of a bird not ready to bed down for the night.

It was all so familiar, sounds and smells she’d known from her very earliest days, a place that should be known and good and safe, and yet it was so _strange_. Daddy was here like he had been then, but Mom and Fiona were not. Daddy was adding a second finger, pressing it into her cunt, wringing a plaintive little moan from her before she could catch herself.

To distract herself from the invasion, Keely thought back to the last time they’d come up here. It hadn’t been Keely’s turn then; it had been Fiona’s. Daddy had gone on top of her and gone inside her and made her a woman, and Fiona, as flaming and fierce and bright as she had been, had still had to submit to this just like Keely did now.

Mom had taken Keely away for a walk while it was happening. She had sat Keely down on a log and told her what a special time it was, something just for Fiona and Daddy. Fiona was a very lucky girl, Mom said, to have a father who loved her like this. Keely had been jealous at first, but Mom promised Keely that someday it would be Keely’s turn to have Daddy make her a woman, and she would be lucky, too.

Keely had believed her. Even when they got back and Fiona had been so subdued, Keely had only seen that Daddy was happy, so she knew what Mom had said must be true. Then when Fiona’s belly had swelled with Brianne, Daddy had been _jubilant_. Fiona had been the family favorite, for giving Daddy such a gift. Keely had burned so bright with jealousy she could hardly stand it.

Fiona had not burned quite so bright, though. She had finished school from home, away from all her friends, and she hadn’t been allowed to be sorry about it. Because it was more important to make Daddy happy, in this and every other thing, than to finish school with all your friends. Sure Fiona had _tried_ to be cheerful about it, the way Daddy wanted, but Keely, perceiving the effort, had slowly begun to doubt.

She’d been so sure, before! Sure that they were right, and this was what she was made for. But after seeing Fiona lose the end of her school like that, and start to fade just a little, she’d had to wonder. Mom and Daddy both said what a nice change it made, having Fiona be so sweet and quiet, and Keely supposed it was proof that Daddy’s training methods worked. But it was still scary to think about it: how much letting Daddy put a baby in you seemed to change everything.

Now, as Daddy added a third finger to open her to full readiness and Keely sobbed in earnest, she was almost terrified.

What if . . ?

“Daddy,” she whispered, damp and ragged into the dark of the tent. She was full of his fingers, full of shameful rebellion and fear. “Daddy . . .”

But she couldn’t ask the question. Couldn’t risk earning his anger on top of everything else. The idea of Daddy making her a woman and then spanking her like a naughty child immediately after was too humiliating. She couldn’t bear it. She would need to be adult about this, just like he wanted her to.

“Mmm?” he murmured. He pressed the fingers deeper. “What is it, princess?”

She melted around his hand at the name. Almost _felt_ herself get softer down there, in the very core of her, knowing that she could please him enough to use it twice. Emboldened, she worked up the nerve to say something very different than her truest thought. Not the thing that scared her the most, but the thing he would think had been scary to say.

Just to make him happy.

“If you’re ready, Daddy—if you want to—you can . . . you can put it in me, now.”

His hand eased its pressure, then stilled.

For a moment she thought it had been the wrong thing to say, but then he took his fingers out, and she nearly gasped at the easing of the terrible pressure, the unbearable _stretch_ of herself from within. He leaned down and kissed her lips, deep and slow and sweet.

“My very good girl,” he said huskily. “She knows exactly how to make her daddy glad. All right, princess, I won’t make you wait any longer. Let’s wrap that sweet little cunt around the cock that made it.”

His flesh pressed to the softened opening he’d stretched for himself. Even with the preparation, it felt so blunt and big and hard. Hard for _her_ , she reminded herself, biting her bottom lip. She made him hard this way. He’d told her so, so many times, leading up to this night. When he showed it to her he had explained what seeing her made him feel, made him want, made him ready to do . . . she made him feel like this. Because it was what she was made for, and his body knew it, and it was time for hers to learn.

Keely knew all that.

She knew how to part her legs wide, like Fiona must have done before her. She knew to smile bravely up into the darkness of the tent, beneath the darkness of the sky, as Daddy bore down and _pushed_ , and—

Something sharp and brightly painful cramped Keely’s belly. She yelped, then it was gone and he was in and she was _full_. So full, and strangely heavy inside, and hot and burning and . . . and . . . her senses reeled. She tried to figure out how she felt, having him in there, having the _doing_ of it done, but she couldn’t even think. Could barely breathe. He was heavy on top of her. She felt lost under him, smothered and swallowed up, and so small.

He started to move.

Keely couldn’t believe there was anywhere left in there for him to go, but there was, and he went there. Pressing, up, deep within, until her belly felt full and hot and funny, then drawing back, leaving her aching and empty of him until he thrust in again, and she felt the fullness once more.

He used his weight against her, bore her down into the thin foam pad under her back so that she could feel, faintly, the bumps and curves and outline of the rocks below. It was so much to process, and yet part of her wanted to stay there forever, pressed between Daddy and the dirt, the earth at her back and her whole world on top of her, _inside_ her, so she had nowhere to go to get away but could only sink deeper inside her own self, into the very belly of her thoughts.

It was scary, she thought, but wonderful, too. How he could be there inside her, like the place there between her legs that was so full of him was just for him, only for him, just like he’d always said it would be.

“Your father knows best,” Mom had said who even knew how many times. More than Keely could remember. But it turned out she was right, after all.

Daddy was picking up speed, so it was harder to stay quiet. He rocked into her and knocked the hurt deep into her tummy, so that little whines and whimpers broke from her every time he pressed in, gasps and cries, but he didn’t seem to mind. He kissed her gently a few times when she started to cry, but didn’t tell her to stop.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured. She couldn’t think of what else to do, so she tried to part her legs a little more, to see if allowing him better access would make it feel less like an invasion. “Ready for more of Daddy’s cock, are you?” He bore down heavy and hard, and she shrieked. “Oh, good girl. You take it so well, honey. Here; let me see those legs.”

He caught one ankle easily in each hand and raised them to rest on his shoulders. It certainly gave him better access, but Keely was dismayed to note it did not feel like less of an invasion. With her thighs screaming and her cunt full of cock, it was quite the opposite.

“Daddy, _no_ , wait—”

“Shh. No backtalk, now. I’m almost done, princess; you can take it.”

He picked up speed.

It was too much. All of it. Too much of his cock, too big, too fast, she was too full . . . everything. All of it. It was just too _much._ And still he pounded into her, faster, so she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only hurt and be filled and filled and filled until—

Keely screamed.

He pressed deep inside her, deeper than she’d ever imagined anything could go, and as she continued to scream he was grunting, gasping in her ear, his cock twitching and surging and filling her again, flooding her cunt with the gift she would be expected to take and make into the gift of his baby, if her body were willing.

And if her body weren’t, Keely knew he would try again, and again, and again until he made it willing. It was just like a spanking: something you had to take from Daddy if you wanted to make him happy again. And she _did_. That was the worst, most wonderful and impossible part. Even sobbing into his bare shoulder as she was, her cunt full of his cock and semen, maybe even ready to be full of his baby, too, Keely _still_ wanted to make Daddy happy. He lay on top of her, so heavy, stifling, crushing her with his weight. But Keely didn’t try to move. She lay mute and meek, accepting his cock, holding the semen safely within.

Right in the place it was made for.

Time went a little funny in the tent. It could only have been minutes at most, but it felt like all eternity that his body was crushing her, hot and damp and simply unthinkable to suggest that he move. So Keely took short, shallow breaths, she drifted hazily through the tingling of her limbs and the dull ache between her legs until at last Daddy stirred. He reached up and gently framed the side of her face with his hand.

“I don’t hear your manners, princess.”

Panic flared bright and hot in a place very near the one that still held his cock. Her whisper came spilling out of her, wheezy and thin but sweetly contrite.

“Thank you, Daddy. Thank you for—for making me a woman.”

It was too dark to see for sure, but she thought that maybe he smiled.

“There’s a good girl.” He pressed a rough, satisfied kiss to her mouth. “Now. Best get your rest for tomorrow.” He rolled off her with a sigh, and settled in at her side.

“We’ve got a whole weekend left to enjoy.”


End file.
